The Mind of an Immortal Woman
by Lola Spears
Summary: A look into the mind and memories of Lilith, whom you met in "Adam and Lilith." Rated T for themes and mild language. This will no longer be updated. See profile for explanation.
1. Guardians of History?

_**A/N: Lilith is an original character I created for my Highlander fiction. She has been featured previously in my fanfiction Adam and Lilith. This series of vignettes will give you some insight into her mind and backstory. Any similarity she bears to other people whether living or dead, real or fictional, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.**_

_**I, of course, do not own Highlander, nor do I make any money off of these silly little stories. I compose them for my own amusement as well as, I hope, for yours.**_

* * *

We are remnants of a bygone era, sort of history's memory. Or maybe we are simply the guardians of history.

Perhaps we are here to ensure that the truth of what has happened throughout the ages will never be completely forgotten.

There are fragments of my memories that are gone from my mind, great gaps in what I remember clearly, but I have left journals behind. Oh, many of them could not be connected to each other, save by someone who actually knew me in those days.

It's quite possible you've read one of those dusty old books and thought it either a mundane telling of day-to-day life in whatever city or province I was living at the time. Otherwise, you may have thought it the outlandish ramblings of someone with a wild and twisted imagination.

Whatever you may think of me, however you might view my strange story, it is a story that needed to be told, even if it's in fragments. Though, if I'm perfectly honest, I tell it more for my own sake than for yours. Too much of history has been lost to sands of time and personal biases. Too often, it is the victors' versions of events that is related to the masses, with the truth skewed and twisted to suit political agendas.

And, yet, after the years pass, and those who lived that part of history have all died, the story, however incomplete or illogical, is accepted. There are those who question it, of course, but I fear the -

Well, there's a good reason so many advise you to question everything, including what you see and hear for yourself.

Methos, the oldest of us to still have his head (as far as we know of), has kept journals of his life, as well. Like mine, some were composed in languages now long dead and forgotten. Others, we have translated together.

How often can you say "I would trust him with my life, with my very last secret" and truly mean it?


	2. Pompeii

I can't remember being in Pompeii.

At least, that's what Methos believes.

Anything I _do _recall of those years is from before Vesuvius erupted, and even those memories are fuzzy. The only thing I can compare it to - so that mortal minds can understand - is very early films. The quality of the images might not be very good and half the film could be missing altogether, but you'll get an inkling of the story.

That's the way it is for a significant portion of my life, particularly when some disaster strikes.

I can vaguely recall the first rumblings of the ground, and a handful of people had expressed concern over it. Hardly anyone took them seriously, though, as there were frequent quakes in that region. It was nothing to worry about, or so many thought. If more had remembered the severity of the quake of a decade and a half before, far fewer lives might have been lost.

But why didn't I flee?

I still wonder what I was thinking. Did I try to convince anyone to evacuate? Was I even aware of the impending danger? Or did something happen that meant I couldn't have left, even if I'd intended to?

All I know is that, at some point after the eruption, I managed to make my way to where Methos was living, and he took care of me until I'd recovered from whatever it was that had happened to me.

Perhaps I should ask Joe Dawson about this. There could be something in the Watchers Archives not known to general histories.


	3. Darkness and Light

Kalas had the voice of an angel, but the heart of a demon.

I encountered him long ago, back when he was newly Immortal. There was something, even then, that glimmered right behind his eyes.

They haunted me. It was his eyes that could lure one in, then that voice captured and held one enthralled, it was impossibly hypnotic and charming, yet fiendish and calculating.

His method of killing is akin to the most inebriating liquor. He'll make you feel so good that you won't realise you're falling until you've thudded to the ground.

But he won't let you see that until he's just about to strike, deadlier than any viper. You never see the danger approaching until it's right upon you; by then, it's too late.

I'd hoped that Brother Paul could help young Antonius find the good within himself, and he did for a time. Paul was a remarkable man, much as Darius was after his Light Quickening. But Paul's goodness, his purity of spirit came from within and was nurtured.

That darkness that dwells just beneath the surface - for some, it's simply too much to fight it, and it overwhelms their entire being until all they know is that darkness.

For others, like Duncan MacLeod, the light within will always chase away the shadows of the night. He has withstood everything he's faced, including a Dark Quickening.

I shall be eternally grateful to Methos for having been there when my youngest son needed someone to help him back from that darkness the most. He has always been a good friend, both to me and to my children.

There is a part of me, however, that occasionally regrets that Methos and I were never anything more.


End file.
